“Alright, enough chatter. Come on in.”
Agnes took Sasha’s hand and led her toward the inner chamber.
Thuke, trailing behind Agnes, whispered to Roland,
“Hey… did you really take down an Elf King back in the Blackstream Kingdom?”
“News travels that fast?” Roland murmured, slightly surprised.
Thuke pulled a screen-like device from his pocket.
“This thing’s called a ‘phone.’”
When Roland first descended from the mountains years ago, the outside world’s endless gadgets had left him stunned and overwhelmed. He’d struggled to adapt—but by now, he’d somehow managed to accept them.
“See? *Frontier Express* is already running the report.”
Thuke tapped replay. Roland and Sasha’s faces flashed on-screen: hailed as heroes for rescuing Blackstream Kingdom’s lightweight passenger train T8230, praised as brave citizens of the Lis Empire. Endless upbeat commentary. Though well-intentioned, Roland and Sasha—both utterly unwilling to be on camera—felt deeply awkward.
“This has Kong Li’s fingerprints. A little payback for taking someone from him,” Agnes said calmly. She’d overheard their entire exchange.
“Once your deeds go public, a fixed image sticks. If you keep appearing, you’ll have to uphold ‘justice’ and ‘bravery’ forever. But humans make mistakes—it’s unsustainable. Especially for someone like you, Roland.”
“No worries. I will *never* go on camera,” Roland said firmly. Being put on display felt like being a monkey in a zoo—every inch of him prickled with discomfort.
“Still… does this mean we’re all set now?” Thuke shifted topics.
“I recall the young mistress mentioned the team only needs seven members.”
Agnes said nothing. She led them deeper into the mansion’s inner chamber.
The space showed signs of age—rustic decor, untouched by recent renovation—but maids moved quietly about, keeping everything impeccably tidy.
The museum’s palette was soft brown. Glass display cases, technical blueprints, and specimens of bizarre creatures filled the view.
“No way… did she buy the *entire* museum? Artifacts and all?” Roland muttered, stunned.
Thuke chuckled beside him. “Why so shocked? The young mistress is nobility among nobles. Buying this tiny place? Barely a flick of the wrist.”
“Mind your words, Thuke,” Agnes chided sharply.
“…Even if it’s true.”
*Uh…* Roland had expected her to defend the young mistress’s humility.
Turns out—it really *was* true.
Sasha followed Agnes at the front.
Beyond the chamber, down a deep crimson corridor, a girl with light purple shoulder-length hair sat in a chair. Her profile alone carried serene grace. She was utterly absorbed in the screen in her hands.
Not a phone—this was… a handheld game console.
Rumor said you could play all sorts of strange games on it.
Sasha didn’t get tech, but last time she’d tried Thuke’s console to play *Imperial Military Chess*. Fun. She’d played similar strategy games with Master Gudao before—never imagined doing it on a screen, pieceless. Magical.
“Xue Die, sorry to keep you waiting.”
Agnes’s voice eased Xue Die’s focus—but she’d clearly sensed their presence long ago.
She rose—about 1.5 meters tall—and gave Agnes a slight nod.
“No problem.”
Her reply was brief, yet her demeanor held no coldness.
Xue Die’s gaze settled on Sasha.
“You’re so cute.”
A faint smile touched her lips.
“I’m Xue Die. And you?”
…
*She’s even prettier when she smiles.*
Sasha blinked, then replied softly,
“I’m Sasha. May I call you Xue Die? You can use my name too.”
“Of course.”
Xue Die smiled again, then turned to Thuke.
“Long time no see, Thuke.”
“We rarely meet face-to-face, but you keep wrecking me online! Next time? No way! I’ve learned some killer new moves!” Thuke clenched his fist, grinning with confidence. Clearly, they’d known each other awhile—their rapport felt as solid as Roland’s.
Xue Die’s eyes shifted to Roland.
He bowed slightly. “Hello, Miss Xue Die. I am Roland.”
“Roland… are you of the Celestial Clan?”
Caught off guard, Roland answered carefully,
“I’m Human-Celestial mixed. According to my master, my grandfather’s line also carries Demon blood.”
“I see… Forgive my bluntness. I simply sensed multiple auras around you. It caught my attention.”
*Xue Die must be Beastkin—her scent sensitivity gives it away.*
“Enough small talk,” Agnes interjected, drawing all eyes. “The young mistress awaits inside. Settle business first. Chat later.”
She led them to a grand door at the corridor’s end.
Their footsteps had already been noted.
Before Agnes could speak, the door swung open.
A man around twenty-five stood there—mature beside their teenage group. He gave a quiet nod, as if introductions could wait, and said calmly,
“Please, come in.”
Inside lay no lavish hall, no hidden paradise.
Only bookshelves.
The chamber soared over twenty meters high, spanned two hundred meters wide—and this was merely the first floor. A spiral staircase curled upward toward the next level.
Amid the sea of books, a vast open space sat strangely clear. At its center, a silver-haired girl stood, engrossed in a crimson grimoire.
She’d already noticed them.
“Footsteps confirm it—you’re all here.”
She lifted her head.
In that instant, Roland understood: phrases like *breathtakingly beautiful* weren’t just flowery lines from romance novels. He owed those authors an apology—and felt a pang of regret for ever doubting them.
